The Dursleys Get What's Coming to Them
by Ariana Peverell
Summary: The moment we've all been waiting for... The Dursleys are getting their comeuppance at last.
1. Chapter 1

The Dursleys Get What's Coming to Them

Chapter 1

In Which There are Doors

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of Number Four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They had a grown-up son, and in their opinion there was no finer man anywhere.

But the Dursleys had a secret, and their greatest fear was that someone would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if people found out about the boy.

The boy was about as un-Dursleyish as it was possible to be. Though they had tried their best to turn him into a _normal_ boy, Harry Potter just could not be considered normal in any sense of the word.

And so Mr. and Mrs. Dursley and their grown-up son went on with their normal lives and did their best to forget about the boy.

As the three were sitting normally at their normal table, eating a normal breakfast, and Mr. Dursley was reading a normal paper… Well, you get the idea. It was a normal morning in the Dursley household.

But then there was a knock at the door.

Wait a minute, I didn't phrase that properly.

It was The Knock, The Knock that will change the world as we know it, save the hero from being shot by a murderous villain, et cetera, et cetera…

It was The Knock That Changed the Dursleys' Painfully Normal Lives.

Now that we've cleared that up, we shall go back to the Oh-So-Normal-Dursleys.

Mr. Dursley tried to get up, but was so morbidly obese that he got stuck in his chair.

So Mrs. Dursley had to get out of _her_ chair and answered the door (Dudley tried to get up and help his father, but found that he was stuck as well).

A dark-skinned man wearing _very_ un-Dursleyish robes was there, with a team of well-trained, trigger-happy aurors.

"I told you when the boy left, we'll have nothing more to do with your lot," Mrs. Dursley screeched shrilly said calmly.

She made to close the door, but Kingsley (for of course it was he) beat her to it.

"Step aside, madam, or I shall be forced to make you," he said, sounding a lot calmer than he felt.

Mrs. Dursley closed the door (like a boss) anyway.

Kingsley sighed.

"Can we blow it up, boss?" asked a particularly sadistic auror, who shall forever remain nameless because the author is lazy.

"Fine."

And so they did.

"Let us have a moment of silence in the memory of this door," a batty, forever unnamed auror said gravely.

 _Jeez, this guy needs to retire,_ thought Kingsley.

Once they had finished mourning the door, they barged in and carted off the Mr. Dursley, Mrs. Dursley, and fatso Dudley.

A/N: review review review review review review review review review review review review review


	2. Chapter 2 The Cockroaches of Doom

A/N: Many thanks to tanzar81 and Mrs Borgin for the reviews.

Chapter 2

The Cockroaches of Doom

The holding cells at the Ministry of Magic were everything cells in fiction should be.

They were dark, cold, damp, cockroach-rat-flea infested, tiny, mold ridden, and generally miserable.

And so the Mr. Dursley, Mrs. Dursley, and fatso Dudley were sitting in the cells awaiting trial, while rats nibbled at their bottoms and fleas sucked their blood and cockroaches crawled over their feet.

But the Dursleys had never experienced such horrible conditions before, so they died miserable, cockroachy deaths.

We wish.

Sadly, it was not to be. The Dursleys survived the nibbling rats, the blood-sucking fleas, and the crawling cockroaches. But for a moment, we shall pretend they did not and declare a national holiday.

When everyone got back from partying they discovered that the Dursleys were, in fact, still alive.

So they decided to give them a trial.

The aurors went to Diagon Alley and bought some nose plugs. Because it stank in the dungeons holding cells. Badly. They traipsed down, and, after several hours of grunting, managed to extract the obese Mr. Dursley and Dudley from their respective cells. Mrs. Dursley, being the anorexic little berk that she is, had no trouble exiting.

When the terrible three saw the first light they had seen in days, their eyeballs exploded and they died from blood loss.

We wish.

The Dursleys survived the light, and were brought to Courtroom Ten, because in fanfics no other courtroom is used, ever. The three were tied to chairs and the judge stood up to read the charges.

"Mr. and Mr. Dursley of Number Four, Privet Drive are charged with…"

Alas! At this exact moment the author's mother called her away to set the table, so we shall never know what the Dursleys' charges are.

A/N: reviews feed the Dursleys' misery! Suggestions and criticism are welcome! Thanks again to tanzar 81


	3. Chapter 3 In Which Being Ugly is a Crime

A/N: Special thanks to xAmazon Warriorx, FriendofMolly, DraconisRose 18, and the unsigned reviewer. Sorry about the wait, I can pour out paragraphs of descriptive nonsense, but snappy dialogue just isn't my thing. It took me ages to write this so I had just enough description to be funny with. Hope you guys like it, and please review!

In Which Being Ugly is a Crime

The author sat back down at her computer. _Phew,_ she thought, _now I can get back to my story._

She began to type…

"… child neglect, theft from a Noble House, and being ugly. How do you plead?" the judge sat down, tired after standing up for five days straight whilst waiting for the author to let her sit down.

"Not guilty!" Mr. Dursley boomed.

Literally.

He was so furious that he exploded into white-hot Dursley meteors, which hit the other Dursleys, killing them instantly.

If only.

Mr. Dursley did _not_ explode, instead he began to smolder like a damp fire. Smoke began pouring out of his ears, and the pressure blew the top of his head off. The other two Dursleys died from smoke inhalation.

Overactive and slightly sadistic imagination of the author aside, the Dursleys…

"Oh, darn it, cat," said the author, "get your furry behind off my keyboard… don't give me that look, you-OW!"

The cat bit her. Grumbling to herself, the author threw the cat out of her room and started, once again, to type.

"Very well," said the judge, whose name was suddenly Griselda Marchbanks. "Representing the defendant is Dolores Umbrisge, Senior Toady Undersecretary to the Minister. Representing the Prosecution is Hermione Granger."

Having read so many Dursley trials in Harry Potter fanfics, and being extremely bad at funny dialogue, the author decided to skip the trial scenes. She really has no knowledge of how courts work, and refuses to submit her readers to her terrible attempts at witty remarks.

We all know what happens anyway.

The judge called a recess, and the jury left to discuss the sentences of the loathsome Muggles.

A/N: thanks again to everyone who reviewed! Suggestions of the Dursleys' sentences are welcome, as is constructive criticism. So please review!


	4. Dudley the House Elf

A/N: Special thanks to FriendofMolly!

Dudley the House Elf

The author grinned insanely, imagining the sentences of the terrible three. She had spent days creating their own personal hells, carefully planning every last tiny detail, inventing punishments so vile that even the most hardened Death Eater cringed away in horror.

She began to type…

"We have," said the unnamed jury member who shall serve only one purpose in this story.

"And what is the verdict?"

"We find the Dursleys guilty of all charges."

The crowd did not gasp. They were far too sophisticated for that.

"We sentence them to a lifetime in Azka-"  
"NO!" cried Griselda, "every evil person gets a lifetime in Azkaban in these fics! We mustn't be so clichéd! Yes," she continued, "we shall find something far, far worse."

The unnamed juror looked taken aback.

"Then we sentence Dudley Dursley to be a House Elf."

Fatso Dudley was immediately sized by aurors and taken into a side room. They hosed him down and dressed him in an itty-bitty loincloth (ew, didn't need that mental image), then took him to Hogwarts to live out the rest of his days working in the kitchens.

But he was _so terrible_ at cooking that the students developed bad cases of food poisoning within minutes of ingesting anything that he had so much as farted breathed on.

With Saint Mungo's overflowing with vomiting teens, a solution was needed fast. An emergency Wizengamot meeting was called, and it was decided that Dinky Diddydums would become Azkaban's first ever House Elf.

They shipped him off, and he spent five miserable years attempting to cook gruel, emptying chamber pots, and farting.

One day he slipped in a puddle of poo and a Dementor swooped down and sucked his soul out.

The very same Dementor was submitted to Saint Mungo's later that day for extreme Demontor flatulence.

A/N: Reviews feed the Dursleys misery… BWAHAHA!


	5. Petunias Don't Grow in Dragon Dung

A/N: Thanks to FriendofMolly, and to answer your question, I needed Dudders in Azkaban for Petunia's demise.

Petunias Don't Grow in Dragon Dung

While Dudders was being hosed down in the side room, the author jury was deciding a suitably creative and nasty punishment for Mrs. Dursley. Eventually, they all reached an agreement.

If I may say so myself, her sentence is quite creative.

The unnamed juror stood up and announced: "We sentence Petunia Evans-Dursley to work in the Romanian Dragon Preserve."

The aurors who weren't pinching their noses and washing Dinky Diddydums seized her and chucked her in the international Floo.

At the Preserve, she was immediately given a shovel and set to mucking out the Dragon's stalls. She spent five years shoveling poo and being miserable, until one day the skies darkened, and a terrible fart sounded through the valley. The Dragon Keepers paled, remembering the horrific legends of Dementor gas.

Mrs. Dursley was cleaning out the stall of Kiska the Hungarian Horntail when the fart came. Kiska turned a delicate shade of green and vomited all over Mrs. Dursley, who was melted by the Dragon stomach acid, which is quite corrosive stuff, so I'm told.

And Mr. Dursley?

Well, the jury decided that there really wasn't any hope for him, so the trigger-happy auror (the one who blew up the door and started this mess) killed him with a quick AK.

Much better death than he deserved, really.

The aurors extracted all the fat from his body and used it to make soap.

They washed the entire filthy, criminal population of Knockturn Alley with it. The inhabitants of Knockturn Alley were still criminals, but they were shiny.

Very.

Very.

VERY shiny.

The End

A/N: thanks to everyone who's read, everyone who's reviewed, and everyone who's followed and faved! Thanks for sticking with me through my first chapter story

AP out.


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